Gravitational Effect
by NinjaMoogle
Summary: Highschool AU drabble series. Life for our beloved Hetalia cast as lives are planned, friendships are made, secrets are discovered - hell, a few might even find love. UKUS, CanadaUkraine, GerIta, SuFin, Austria/Hungary, and others. Chapter Three up!
1. Trois Navires De Ble

I don't usually do modern-world AUs, much less highschool/gakuen so this is new - please bear with me. This 'fic' will be essentially an amalgamation of drabbles that come to me as they will, and hopefully somewhat satisfy those who want me to update things sooner (main project right now is the third chapter of _Against the Sky_). This will be lots of pairings and slice-of-life, so plot is kinda secondary. Fluff is premium.

For those who are interested, pairings that are decided so far will be as follows: UKUS, GerIta, SuFin, CanadaUkraine, AustriaHungary, with a onesided Belarus-Russia on the side for spice. Other pair-ups have yet to be decided. I am, however, open to input.

Without further adieu, here you are...

* * *

_He_ was in the stands again. Kateryna allowed herself a tiny smile as she dried her face off with her sweat towel. She could feel the eyes of her male fanbase upon her as she sat down on the bench, towel about her shoulders. They were always there at games, with their watching, their signs declaring their adoration - _We love Lyzhychko!_, _Yekaterina!_, and _I *heart* _#_13!_ were only a few common versions that she always saw. She wasn't stupid, no matter how naive she knew she could seem to be at times - she knew what they were there for. They wanted to watch her 'play'. They wanted to watch her breasts bounce as she ran, as she shot for the basket. If any of them ever came up to congratulate her on a game well played (which many often did), it was a miracle if any of them managed to drag their gaze above her chest.

She was wholly convinced, actually, that Matthew was the only straight boy in the entire school (besides her dear brother, of course) that knew what color her eyes were. Or perhaps not - Kateryna clearly remembered dropping her water bottle one time and turning to pick it up only to see the blond boy holding it out to her, his eyes firmly fixed off somewhere in the distance.

"Y-you dropped this, m- uh, m-miss Yekaterina." He spoke very quietly; Kateryna idly wondered where the bold young man from her chemistry class had gone, but took the water bottle anyway.

"Thank you, Alfred." She gave him a smile, expecting him not to notice - they usually didn't - and turned to continue down the hall.

"M-Matthew."

She turned back, blinking. "Excuse me?" she inquired politely, a bit puzzled.

"I-I'm Matthew. Not Alfred. He-he's my twin," he went on, _so quietly!_, gaze still somewhere not _her, _not on her breasts, below, or even above. "I'm in your Home Ec class. It's o-okay if you don't remember me, no one usually does..." There was maybe a vague memory, one of a quiet junior with downcast blue-violet eyes that made great pancakes, but nothing else, really. Even so...

She smiled again, this time for real. "I'm sorry about that. Well then, thank _you_, Matthew." A grateful pat in his shoulder, and she wasn't expecting to scare him, really!, but he just gave a little squeak and flailed back from her, face cherry-red, and fled in an instant, disappearing faster than she would have thought possible. She couldn't help but giggle a little. _He's kinda cute_.

After that incident, she started to notice him. _Matthew_. She would see Alfred in Chemistry, boisterous and loud, and then Matthew in Home Ec (Art and World History too, why had she not noticed this before?), reserved and quiet. He wasn't _timid_, not really, but he hardly ever spoke up, and no one seemed to hear him when he did. He would come to her games too, she noticed, always somewhere in the middle rows where he would cheer and scream for her, but not in they way all the other boys did, and he never stayed after long enough to come down and ogle her like _them_. She decided one day, when they had to choose partners for a paper on the Industrial Revolution, what she would do. Pulling up a desk, she sat down right in front of Matthew and pulled her textbook out. The poor boy's face was aflame, and he _still_ wouldn't look directly at her. She frowned.

"Matthew?"

His eyes scrunched shut as he visibly gathered his courage.

"_Matvey_?"

When he finally did look her in the face, it was without guile, without lust. A refreshing change.

"H-hi... Kateryna..."

She smiled, _such a shy little thing_. "May I be your partner, Matthew?"

"I-I'd love that," came the shy reply.

* * *

TBC! Next up - UKUS, with a twist you may not have seen before...


	2. La, La Maladie Du Sommeil

Chapter 2? One is proud to introduce Alfred, with mention of Erizabeta, Yong Soo, Roderich, Gilbert, and Arthur. The Chemistry teacher is just a random, generic, OC. I may or may not be putting the Ancients in as teachers later, but all of the normal Hetalia characters will be younger - still in school.

* * *

It was a sunny, blue-sky day, not even lunchtime, and Alfred was happy. Well, mostly. Fourth-period study hall was annoying - it was too late in the morning to fall asleep again, and all of his work for classes was already done, so study hall entertainment mostly consisted of flicking paper footballs back and forth with a girl two rows over from him, and occasionally teaming up to pelt other people. The Korean playing videogames on his laptop was a common victim, as was the stuffy guy in glasses who was always fussing over his scribbled-upon sheets of music. Whenever he turned to glare at them for their fun, Erizabeta would blow him a kiss and bat her eyelashes, and he would blush and turn back around, grumbling to himself in German. And so it would go. _Really_, Alfred mused, _the only time when study hall is interesting is_...

_BOOM_

Alfred was out of his seat before the emergency sprinklers popped on, rushing past the supervising teacher and her assistants without them even batting an eye and took off for the Chemistry room on the second floor. He nearly tripped on his way up the stairs, sprinting down the hallway to the door with all the people clustered outside of it. It leaked a few frail wisps of smoke, but there were no roiling clouds. A good sign. He flung himself through the doorway.

"Teach! Damage control?"

"Oh, Alfred, thank goodness you're here." The teacher ran a hand over his balding head, utterly exasperated, but relieved. "Help me gather up everything, will you? We don't need any stray reactions happening on top of this disaster."

Alfred threw a salute as he pulled out the elbow-length rubber gloves. "Can do, sir."

"You're a lifesaver, m'boy."

As the teacher double-checked the gas valves for the Bunsen burners, Alfred carefully gathered up the materials that the lab class had been using. They really shouldn't have caused such a volatile reaction, but considering who was in this lab session... He sighed, placing packages of powder and sealed flasks of clear liquid back into the explosion-proof cabinet. "So, what did Kirkland do this time?"

The teacher didn't even question how he knew, but threw up his hands in mute surrender. "Couldn't tell you. I turn away for five seconds to make sure Beilschmidt doesn't _intentionally_ blow anything up, and the next thing I know, _blam!_" he slammed a palm down onto a countertop. "The crucible blew. The chemicals were smoking, smoldering pits eating into the table. We're just lucky nothing got to the gas tube. A'course, one thing goes wrong, and the kids at the next station freak - knock over their burner and catch their lab manual on fire." He shook his head.

Alfred winced. "Was anyone hurt?"

The teacher shrugged. "One boy singed trying to put out the paper fire, Kirkland got away with some ceramic shrapnel to the arms and hands aaaaand... singed eyebrows."

"_Pfffft!_" Alfred flung a hand over his mouth. "T-that really shouldn't be so funny..."

The older man shot him a grin. "Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about it. They'll grow back, and as long as he can still play soccer, he won't care."

"So he's in the nurse's office?"

A nod. "Getting the shards out. If you're going down there to have another argument with him about jocks in the lab, do please keep the volume down, will you?" A raised eyebrow followed. "We don't need the both of you getting suspended for fistfighting. Again. I'd really hate to lose my most promising student and aide, and I'm sure the Archaeology Club would be devastated."

Alfred grumbled. "Well if he'd only _listen-_"

Clapping a hand down on Alfred's broad shoulder, the teacher gave him a gentle shove towards the door. "Go. Berate. Argue. Make sure he's okay, hm?"

Alfred gaped, _oh God I really hope I'm not blushing!_, and fled.

* * *

So, who will show up next...?

Opinions, questions gripes, complaints? Love, affection, criticism? Please review!


	3. Sakasama no Chou

APH - Gravitational Effect Ch. 3

I REALLY SHOULD NOT BE WRITING WHEN I HAVE TWO LABS TO DO AND A PAPER TO WRITE OH GOD WHYYYYYYYYYYY…

But here it is anyway. Have fun.

.o.

* * *

Ludwig sat and tapped away at his laptop, eyes focused intently on the faintly glowing screen. The faintly grey light streaming in the windows wasn't at the right angle to create much glare, but it was making it a bit hard to see. Sometimes he would reach to the side into a desktop organizer and either pick up or discard various stacks of papers. Next to the three-tiered organizer were a few personal items - a stuffed Peep that his brother had given him, a small but delicately painted model U-Boat from Kiku, a standing frame with a picture of his family. He pushed the glasses he occasionally wore for reading up his nose, sighed, and continued his routine.

So relaxing, routine. He could just fall into the measured click of computer keys, the comfort of letters and numbers and rules and regulations, the gentle almost-silence of _work getting done_, and be happy. All was normal. Except, of course, for the intense, purposeful almost-silence of _art getting done_ on the other side of the room. He let routine fall to the wayside for a moment and paused in his _tap-tap-tapping_, instead to glance up and look over to where a brown-haired boy with paint-spattered arms sat perched upon a stool.

Not many would have recognized the Italian in his current state of concentration - his silence and gaze of unerringly singular intent was uncommon for one generally prone to bouncing around a room with manic energy and making enough noise to inform an entire corridor of his presence. Ludwig could see the canvas bend ever so slightly as Feliciano leaned forward into every brushstroke. It was part of what made his paintings come alive - the mark, the texture. Feliciano's art stood out from the canvas, refusing to be contained within its paltry boundaries. Of course, this meant it often stained the floor and anything around with myriad shades of acrylics, oils, or whatever else was being used to paint with - and just as often stained Feliciano as well.

Ludwig was abruptly pulled from his contemplation when the artist in question suddenly flailed, waving his arms about madly and nearly falling off of his stool.

"NO! No, no! Stay! Put, stay put - keep doing what you were doing! No, do not look at _me_ - look at the computer! The papers! Wa, how do you expect me to paint you if you _move_? Go back to your work!" The flustered Italian shook his hands at Ludwig, drops of dark blue paint flicking off the end of the paintbrush he still held as if to scold his taciturn German friend.

Ludwig's eyes flicked back down to the laptop screen. "Don't you have practice in ten minutes?"

The brush froze.

Amber eyes glanced quickly to the wall clock and Feliciano let out a high wail, "_Aahhh!_ I will be late - why did you not tell me sooner? _Capitano_ is going to kill me!" and rushed around to cap his tubes of paint, hurriedly cleaning the brushes and making sure the canvas was placed securely against a wall to dry. He grabbed his sports duffel and popped over to Ludwig's side for just a second to slip in a quick peck to the cheek before rushing out the door.

"Wish me luuuuuck!"

And Ludwig could not help but smile.

.o.

* * *

.o.

There was a commotion outside the second-floor science room window.

Alfred sighed and closed the window from where it was cracked. Generally he liked to keep it a bit open to let in a breeze - it could get pretty stuffy inside sometimes, and it had only just begun to rain a bit before. Nothing hard or driving, and that wouldn't be enough to stop what was going on below anyway. He tried to ignore it for a time - throwing himself into his duties as Teacher's Aide, planning out next week's physics lab, and getting ahead in his own studies - but as the sounds from below, now muffled by the glass and only faint, drifted up to where he could hear it...

...he couldn't help it, _couldn't help it!_, but... Alfred paused, Erlenmeyer flask in hand, and glanced out the window, into the grey-blue sky, the light drizzle of rain despite the sun. Below, the soccer team continued on unperturbed. His eyes searched - _there_,_ there he is_ - for Arthur. He watched as the captain spun, arm flung wide - _watched the water slick down his arm, a spray of droplets thrown from his hair_ - to send the ball back to Miguel on defense. He didn't bother to follow the ball after that, his entire attention devoted to Arthur as he ran, cleats digging into the turf, legs pistoning, sending him flying down the field.

Alfred's mind blanked as he watched - all remaining thoughts of fractional crystallization, lanthanides, shear stress, combustion equations, system efficiency, anything he would _normally_ have running through his head - poof! Gone. Instead, his mind deigned - no, _delighted_ - to present him with entirely different questions. _What path would that rainwater take down your bare chest, Captain Kirkland? What would you look like with my hands snarled in your hair, pulling you close? What would those gorgeous legs feel like tangled with my own? Would your too-green-to-be-real eyes be closed or open as you leaned in to kiss..._

He forcefully wrenched his train of thought back onto its tracks with a shake of his head. _No! No! This is _Arthur_ you're thinking about, got it? Caterpillar eyebrows, grouchy, lit nerd, disaster in the kitchen_ - and the lab, he recalled, wincing at the memories - _soccer jock, control-freak, and all-around more-superior-than-thou Brit! Not your type, bud, not at all. _

* * *

.o.

Questions, thoughts, gripes, complaints? Please review!


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